


The Difference Between Lost Thoughts and Stolen Minds

by milkandcookieshero



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, background widomauk, basically yasha gets feebleminded, beau and molly being platonic siblings is my jam, dnd rules? who is she i dont know her, jester and nott are the best detectives if anyone says otherwise i Will cut you, nott and yasha are a chaotic stupid kinda duo, nott appreciates having big strong women like we all do, please let yasha and frumpkin be friends, tags to be added as story progresses, the mighty nien share one braincell and caleb has it most of the time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-08-03 15:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkandcookieshero/pseuds/milkandcookieshero
Summary: “Uh… Yasha?”The barbarian’s head jerks her way, and Beau freezes up, because Yasha, her strong, unbreakable Yasha, looks fuckingterrified.(Or; in which Yasha falls victim to a ruthless spell and the Mighty Nein must save one of their own from what'sprobablya vampire)





	1. Chapter 1

Beau is pissed.

It’s not an unusual occurrence since she usually is about twenty times a day, but this time is different.

Beau is pissed because she fell for the dumbest trap to ever exist.

A goddamn rope trap that snagged onto her ankle and yanked her into the tree line.

Beau groans, arms tugging angrily against the manacles that keep her in place against a cobblestone wall. They don’t budge, but then again, they haven’t for the past hour or so. Beau’s definitely worn down her wrists to the bone; she can feel the congealed blood crackling with her movements.

There’s shifting from across the room, and Beau’s even more pissed, because she inadvertently has dragged someone else into this.

Yasha.

The barbarian had been there when Beau had been caught, and so, like any good person, she’d tried to get her down.

 _Tried_ being the key word.

It was admittedly more complex of a trap then Beau had expected, and unfortunately for her, Yasha was not the most dexterous of people. And unfortunately for Yasha, she’d been so preoccupied on trying to free the monk that she’d never noticed the group of cloaked mages sneaking up on her. She had turned around to a face full of sleep dust, which had instantly subdued her.

And now, Yasha is stuck with her gods know where, away from the rest of the Nien.

She can hear the larger woman fight against her own restraints, with no success. She sighs and tiredly looks at Beau, the affects of the sleep powder still gripping her. The monk smiles at her awkwardly, waving her hand in greeting.

“Uh, good morning?”

Yasha blinks at her.

Beau winces. “Yeah, okay, not the best thing to say.”

Yasha shifts again, large wrists chafing painfully against her shackles. “Where…” she trails off, words stumbling over a slight slur, “where are we?”

“Hah,” Beau coughs, “That is a _great_ question. One that I do _not_ have the answer to.”

The barbarian rolls her eyes exasperatedly. Blinking twice to try and clear the sleep from her eyes, she begins thoroughly examining their surroundings.

It’s clear that they aren’t the first people to be brought here. The walls are stained with old, blackened blood, and multiple manacles hang around the chamber. Around them, old scratch marks mar the surface of the floor and walls, signs of struggles throughout the years. And probably most distressing of all, is the many, many, _many_ jars of blood stacked around the room. 

Beau shudders involuntarily. “Okay, that’s just _wrong_.”

Yasha barely spares them a second glance as she suddenly focuses on the stairway behind Beau. The monk raises an eyebrow in silent inquiry, but the barbarian either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t bother to reply.

“Uh, Yash? You okay over there?”

Her eyes flick down to Beau momentarily before refocusing onto the entrance. “Listen closely.” She murmurs.

Confused but still confident in Yasha’s keen senses, Beau strains her ears and listens carefully. She hears the soft, but unmistakable click of heels on stone, which grow louder with every step.

Looking back at Yasha nervously, Beau tries one more time to free herself from the cuffs. They stay frustratingly in place, and the monk growls irritated. 

Yasha looks at her sympathetically. “It’s going to be fine.” She rumbles, voice soft and calm.

A wooden door creaks open, and Yasha’s face twists into a foreboding scowl.

“Oh,” a feminine voice says, “it seems my little lambs have woken up.”

Beau shrivels at the name, gentle in its nature, but the voice says it in such a way that it has the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

The woman appears from behind the stairwell, eyes glowing merrily. While a long, black cloak covers most of her features, Beau can see her glowing green eyes, pointed ears and slightly upturned nose. She’s pale but healthy, which make her unnerving eyes stand out all the more.

The woman steps close to Beau, eyes crinkling at the edges as she smiles, kind and soft, but every nerve in Beau’s body scream that this woman is dangerous. Something flashes in her eyes, and she crouches down to be at eye-level with the monk.

The shackles holding Yasha scrape against the wall as she gives a silent warning, but the woman ignores her, cupping Beau’s cheek in her hand. It’s only until now that Beau notices just how long and sharp her nails are. They resemble claws or talons more than actual fingernails, and Beau flinches away and gnashes her teeth angrily.

The tight-lipped smile grows as she digs in a finger and drags it across her cheek down to the corner of her lip, drawing beads of blood. She hums, pleased at the crimson liquid, before swiping it with her fingers. Beau watches as the woman brings it up to her mouth and _licks them clean_. She hums again, less enthused, before standing up, eyeing Beau up and down.

“Just another human? Boooring.” She sings, idly cleaning the blood from her fingers, and Beau can see the needle-sharp teeth just barely peeking past her lips.

Tilting her head back, she eyes Yasha curiously. Beau lurches forward, pulling against the chains. “Hey, asshole! Eyes on me!”

The woman tuts as if she’s chiding an indolent child. “You’re rather rude, aren’t you?” But she turns and leisurely strolls to the barbarian, hips swaying with every step.

Crouching down with Yasha, the woman reaches for her face, like she did for Beau. Yasha, however, snarls and lunges for the hand. The woman shifts back as Yasha’s teeth click harmlessly together, in what was almost a painful bite.

The woman chuckles, eyes glowing hungrily. “Oh my, you’re quite the fighter.” She rocks on the balls of her feet before springing up, heading off in search of something.

In that brief interlude, Yasha glares at the scratch on Beau’s face, silently fuming. Lightning roils in the depths of her eyes, and a storm brews in her veins, but the heavy atmosphere is cut by the reappearance of the woman, now brandishing a long, thin knife.

The woman lazily drags a finger along the length of the blade, watching Yasha with keen eyes. 

“You know,” she comes closer, crouching down with the barbarian once again. “I just _love_ it when they’re feisty.”

Yasha growls, low and deep, and the woman reaches for her again. This time, Yasha relents, letting her palm her cheek, but the growl still bubbling from her chest continues.

The woman moves the knife forward, and slashes a small cut into the flesh of Yasha’s cheek. She thrashes again, teeth gnashing as the woman brushes some of the blood onto her fingers. Her blood has a darker tone to it than Beau’s, which seems to catch the woman’s attention. She presses the fingers to her lips and licks them as well, and her body vibrates with excitement.

“Oh!” She exclaims, leaping up delightedly, “Oh! You’re not human at all! In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever tasted one of your kind!”

She leans forward, enraptured, and moves the knife for another cut. Yasha, however, snaps forward and catches the blade in her teeth. Surprise flits across the woman’s face as she tries to tug it free, but Yasha holds tight. The metal creaks before suddenly snapping under the intense pressure from Yasha’s back teeth, which are remarkably sharp and thick.

The shards of metal fall from Yasha’s lips as the woman pouts, arms crossing over her chest. “Now, that just won’t do.”

She purses her lips, considering something, before standing to her feet. She turns and skips away, but not before calling over her shoulder to Beau and Yasha.

“Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone, m’kay?” 

Beau flips her off.

Yasha spits out a small wad of blood sourly and Beau winces. “You okay?”

Multicolored eyes peer blankly at the monk. “I’m fine.”

“You know, you say that a whole lot, especially when you’re not.” Beau replies flippantly, shrugging as best as she can in her position.

Yasha glares halfheartedly.

“I’m serious!” Beau retorts, “You need to tell us if something’s wrong so we can help you! I – _we_ care about you. A lot. And we wanna be there for you, but we can only help as much as you let us.”

The barbarian hesitates, various emotions flickering in her eyes rapidly. Finally, she sighs, sounding much more tired.

“Okay.”

Beau’s pierced brow rises. “Okay?”

“I’ll,” She swallows, and Beau can see the nervous set to her shoulders. “I’ll try to, um, communicate with you. Better.”

Beau smiles, the soft and genuine one she saves just for Yasha, and the barbarian offers a small, tentative one in return. The monk opens her mouth to say something else, but a door swings open next to them, and the woman reemerges, mixing different powders into a greenish mixture.

“Guess who?” She preens.

“Do we have to?” Beau remarks dryly as she rolls her eyes.

The woman’s shoulders fall. “Boo. You’re no fun.” She spins on her heel and leers at Yasha lasciviously.

“You, however,” she croons, “I’d _love_ to play with you more.”

The woman looks into the glass jar holding the unknown mixture with a hungry gleam in her eyes. She tips it into an open palm, the dust-like powder gathering together in the curve of her hand. Tossing aside the now-empty cylinder, the woman snaps her thumb and middle finger of her free hand, and the manacles around Yasha’s wrists fall away.

The taller woman shoots to her feet immediately, eyes flickering from Beau, to the woman, to the dust in her hand, and then to the door above them. The woman beckons Yasha towards her eagerly, but she stays put, tightly coiled and ready to spring into action.

The woman groans exasperatedly, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. “Oh come on, come get me!”

Yasha stays still.

The woman grumbles before moving forward until she’s standing next to Beau. Her free hand glows with arcane energy as she searches out Yasha’s gaze again. “Does this work?”

The barbarian snarls, eyes narrowing as she takes a threatening step forward. The woman grins, large and excitedly.

“Yes, yes, yes; that’s it! Come on!” Her hand twitches closer to Beau’s throat. The monk spits and thrashes wildly. “Don’t make me kill her, please. I’d _hate_ to spill such precious blood.”

That seems to do it.

Yasha charges her, fists held out in front of her as she swings at the woman. When her punch connects however, it goes through her, as if she was made of tendrils of smoke. The barbarian whirls around, only to be face-to-face with the woman, who smiles devilishly.

“Boo.”

She flings the dust into Yasha’s face, which detonates on impact, exploding into bright bits of green. Yasha’s hands come up to claw at her face as she stumbles back, bumping into a table accidentally. Bright streaks of magic lance up and down her form, dancing like lightning, and the woman laughs victoriously.

“That ought to do the trick.” She muses, approaching Yasha, who slowly begins to cease her twitching.

Then the world quakes as an explosion rocks the ground above them.

The woman frowns, disappointed, before turning to Beau. “I guess I have to go for now.” Green smoke envelopes her form, and she smiles sweetly. “See you soon.” With that, she vanishes, disappearing to who knows where.

The cuffs around Beau’s wrists unclamp, and the monk is quick to leap to her feet. Immediately, she seeks out Yasha, who’s turned away from her and hunched over. She steps closer, unsure about how to approach her.

“Uh… Yasha?”

The barbarian’s head jerks her way, and Beau freezes up, because Yasha, her strong, unbreakable Yasha, looks fucking _terrified_.

Without any given warning, she leaps up the stairs and tears out of the room, leaving a bamboozled monk in her wake. Shaking out of her initial shock, Beau races after her, legs burning with the exertion. After turning through a series of hallways, Beau bursts through a large, thick and old door, stumbling into the daylight, and into a forest set ablaze.

Beau spins on her heel over and over again, but there’s no use.

Yasha’s gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yasha needs a damn hug.
> 
> so does beau. and molly.

As the green fades from her mind, Yasha comes to, with smoke in her lungs and the taste of copper on her tongue.

Everything is chaotic and loud and unfamiliar and the barbarian can do nothing but grab at her head, clutching at her hair as she tries to focus on something – _anything_ tangible.

There’s noise in front of her, and she turns to see a figure next to her. They’re shorter and leaner than her and but it’s so sudden and Yasha still can’t understand anything, and the room around them is suddenly too small and she just needs to _go_.

She runs from the dark-skinned person as she frantically searches for any form of escape. There are so many walls that fall under her weight but no clear means to get out. She can hear the person making noise – loud, angry noise – and that spurs her on to charge into something softer than stone but not entirely weak, and she finally feels like she’s free.

Quick footsteps tread through the grass, and Yasha turns to see a person clothed in dark racing towards her, something long and silver in their hands. A small heavy presence lurking in the back of her head screams that it’s bad, but before she can even do anything, the person is suddenly engulfed in heat.

Yasha skids back from the sheer force of it as the person releases a loud, anguished noise. Fear slowly latches itself onto her heart as she whirls around; suddenly realizing the bright angry heat cages her in.

Her lips pull back in a reflexive glower, furious at the growing wall of heat. She’s bracing herself to charge through when an unknown hand suddenly grabs her shoulder and spins her around.

The new person is green and tall with piercing yellow eyes and pointed ears. They’re making noise at her and stepping closer, and Yasha’s lungs forget how to breathe. They’re too close, the walls are too close and Yasha’s choking and gasping.

They step closer, and Yasha immediately reacts, snarling and lashing out at them blindly. They stumble back and fall, hands clutching at a spot of red on their face as Yasha bursts through the heat, hissing at the sear of her flesh. 

Her breath catches on every inhale and exhale and she knows she’s panicking, but she pushes on because the only thing she knows is that she needs the purple one. She doesn’t know how or why but she needs them right now.

A blue figure suddenly jumps in front of her and Yasha recoils violently, teeth baring on instinct. Her arms flex as she makes to swing, but the weight in her mind snaps angrily and Yasha suddenly _knows_ that she can’t hurt this one, no matter what. Instead, she spins on her heel and turns away from opened arms, racing into the open forest.

Her lungs constrict again and Yasha wheezes, nearly stumbling into a plant as she runs. Something wet burns hot in her eyes as her body screams for air, but Yasha can’t stop because she’s still too trapped and she’s almost _free_ -

The ground beneath suddenly erupts into a flurry of movements. The earth is shifting and it’s suddenly grabbing her and holding her down, trapping her in place. Yasha writhes and bites and snarls because she was so close and now she can’t move, can’t run, can’t breathe. She’s suffocating and the figures approaching do _nothing_ but watch her struggle.

She growls and roars at them but they remain unflinching, and she’s seething because they should know she needs to go, she needs to leave but they just watch her – they’re watching her _die_.

Yasha throws her head back and _howls_.

…

Beau sprints through the fiery remains of the forest, eyes desperate as she searches for Yasha, but no matter how fast she runs, or how much she looks, she still can’t find her.

The monk’s heart is practically breaking through her ribcage with how hard it’s pounding, a fear gripping her unlike any other. She can’t shake the haunting vision of Yasha, eyes wide in fear as she looks at Beau.

Something hot suddenly catches her in the side, and she snarls as she rips herself away from a burning tree she’d ran into, too lost in thought to ever notice. She presses one hand against the fresh wound as she turns around, only to see herself surrounded by walls of fire.

“Beau!”

She jumps at the sound of her own name, and for a spilt second, she think she’s hallucinating from smoke inhalation, but then she spots purple skin and a familiar gaudy coat and she knows there’s no hallucinating _that_ atrocity.

“Molly!” She shouts, stumbling through a bush to where she thinks she saw his tapestry come from.

A flaming branch falls suddenly as a scimitar slashes through. Beau’s never been more relieved to see those pools of red as Molly steps past. He scans her up and down for any injuries, eyeing the cut on her face with thinly veiled anger. Before she can say anything, he speaks up, nearly yelling over the roar of the fire.

“What happened to you? Where’s Yasha?” He asks, turning to hack through more flaming foliage.

“I don’t really know,” Beau replies, following closely behind, “Some fucking creepy lady caught us and ate our blood.”

Molly spins to look at the monk, disgust coloring his features.

“I know, like I said, creepy as fuck, but she did some weird magic shit to Yasha, and dude,” she grips his shoulder, conveying how serious she truly is, “she looked so fucking _scared_ , Molly. I – I don’t-“

“ _Beau? Are you alive? You can respond to this message._ ”

Beau jerks back, a garbled noise of surprise slipping past her lips. The tiefling looks at her as if she’s gone mad. She brushes off his concern.

“Nott.”

“Ah.”

“Um,” she coughs into her hand, “Nott? Hello?”

“ _Oh!_ ” the familiar voice squeaks, “ _You’re not dead! That’s good. Where – where are you?_ ”

“Beats me.” She responds, looking around for any recognizable feature, but when everything’s currently on fire, it’s a hard thing to discern.

Beau clears her throat. “Yo, Nott, have you seen Yasha?”

There’s a small pause, and the monk’s heart thunders loudly against her chest as dozens of horrible thoughts spiral out of control, but the goblin responds, cutting through her panic like a knife.

“ _Yeah! She’s running away from Jester, Caleb, and Fjord right now. What’s wrong with her?_ ”

“I don’t know.” She swallows thickly, whether from smoke or emotion, Beau isn’t sure. “The weird lady who took us did something magicky to her.”

“ _Maybe Caleb can – oh!_ ” Nott’s reply is cut off by the sudden exclamation, and Beau stumbles into Molly’s back.

“Nott? Nott, what the fuck happened?”

“ _Caleb’s got her in his cat’s paw!_ ” she answers gleefully, “ _You and Molly should probably hurry. We’re near the forest that isn’t on fire._ ”

“Gotcha.” Beau tugs on Molly’s coat to catch his attention. “We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

The purple tiefling faces her. “So, what’s the news?”

“Caleb’s got Yasha, and they’re in part of the forest that’s not on fire.”

“Well,” Molly drawls, turning to look around, “that can’t be too hard to find.”

And it’s not.

With Molly’s keen sight, they eventually burst into the clearing that’s further from the growing blaze. Immediately, they’re greeted with the sight of Fjord and Jester, who lead them to the others. Beau almost wishes they hadn’t.

Because in the middle of the clearing, obviously terrified out of her fucking mind, Yasha is furiously trying to battle her way out of the spell, kicking and spitting wildly.

Nott rushes up to them quickly. “Thank gods you guys are here, maybe you can talk some sense into her. She won’t respond to any of us.”

Molly looks up at his friend, sorrow and pity flickering across his face. Yasha’s covered in sweat as she frantically pulls at her bindings. Across from her, Caleb sits cross-legged on the ground, focusing on keeping the barbarian restrained. Sensing their approach, the wizard looks up at them.

“I cannot use sleep on her,” he says, “she’s too strong. Can either one of you calm her down? Maybe then I can identify what spell’s affecting her.”

Molly nods, as Beau simply steps closer to Yasha. The larger woman snarls and thrashes, nearly breaking free. The monk considers her actions carefully before sitting down in front of Yasha, closer than Caleb, and places her hands in her lap calmly.

Wild blue and violet eyes lock onto her as Yasha pants for breath, limbs trembling from the strenuous effort. Molly follows, seeing as how Yasha’s attention has been diverted to them and not the binds caging her in.

“Hello, darling.” He murmurs, voice soft and gentle. The barbarian looks down at him and gnashes her teeth. The noise sounds angry and frightening, but Molly and Beau both know her better, and they know she’s scared out of her wits.

“I know,” Molly says comfortingly, “I know you’re scared, but we want to help you, love.” He shuffles closer, and Yasha growls testily, eyes searching for a means of escape. 

“Hey,” Beau utters, “Hey Yash.”

Yasha’s eyes land back on the monk and she grunts, arms going taut as she tries pulling again. The monk extends her arm forward, eyes carefully searching out the barbarian’s.

“Can I come closer, Yash?” she uses the nickname gently, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

Heterochromatic eyes flash as Yasha tugs on her restraints again. She doesn’t appear to either notice or understand Beau’s question. The monk’s brow furrows as she turns to Caleb.

“Can she… can she not hear us?” she asks, forcing her voice to be soft even as frustration at herself boils hotly under her skin.

The wizard’s eyes are downcast as he thinks hard. “I think…” he begins, reaching down to pull a book from his coat, “I think I might know what is ailing her. Keep her distracted for a little while I look.”

Beau nods stiffly before turning to Yasha again. She’s gone mostly still, aside from the occasional twitch of her hand or kick of her foot. Beau, feeling encouraged by the lack of struggle, scoots forward little by little. Yasha doesn’t react, just blinks tiredly at her.

“Hey,” she says, grasping for words that might soothe the barbarian. Yasha huffs before keening lowly.

“I hear ya, Yash.” She murmurs. “I hear ya.”

Yasha tries to lift her right hand again, only to growl softly as it is kept firmly in place. She looks to the monk helplessly as she tugs again. Both her and Molly seem to understand.

“Caleb, dear,” Molly turns to him, “would you kindly release her?”

Nott, Jester and Fjord, who have been standing near Caleb, unsure of what to do with themselves, all look up nervously at Molly’s request.

“Why would I, Mollymauk? Wouldn’t she just run?” the wizard answers, still reading through pages of his book.

“No,” Beau cuts in, eyes still trained on Yasha, who has stilled once more, “no, she won’t.”

Caleb looks up from his book finally, piercing blue eyes looking directly into Beau’s.

“The spell,” he begins, closing his book with a sudden finality, “is called Feeblemind. It strips away the target’s thoughts, communication, and magic. Yasha will have no idea how to converse with us, nor will she comprehend what we say to her.”

“If I let her go, she will run away again.” He adds matter-of-factly, standing to his feet.

“You paranoid fucker.” Beau hisses. Yasha, seemingly sensing her agitation, pulls at the Cat’s Paw again; anger and desperation clear on her face.

“Just because she can’t talk to us doesn’t mean she doesn’t understand us,” the monk shoots back, “So maybe she can’t understand what we _say_ , but she _knows_ us, she knows how we act.”

She scowls at the wizard. “She _won’t_ run.”

They spend quite some time glaring at each other, the air slowly becoming rife with the tension, before Caleb slumps his shoulders and sighs.

“Fine, fine, okay. I’ll let her go.”

The paw glows faintly before vanishing back into the earth from which it came, and Yasha stumbles to regain her footing. Looking up, the barbarian slowly looks from one person to the next, body still prepared to flee if necessary.

Beau approaches slowly, hands help up passively. “Hey.”

Yasha looks at her thoroughly, eyes roaming over her body. They eventually land on the still bleeding scar crossing her cheek, and Yasha’s eyes widen ever so slightly. Timidly, she steps closer until she’s right in front of Beau, still easily towering over her even though she’s hunched over slightly.

Yasha’s hand slowly comes up to delicate cup Beau’s cheek, and she hums mournfully. Gently, the monk’s own hand comes up to cover the barbarian’s.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, “I’m okay.”

Yasha leans forward and puts their foreheads together, and slowly, the tension bleeds away from Yasha’s shoulders. She closes her eyes and Beau smiles.

“And you’re going to be okay, eventually.”

Molly steps closer, and Yasha looks up at hearing his approach. The tiefling offers his own bright smile, and the barbarian returns a small smile. She might not understand the words they say, but the feelings they use definitely clue her in as to what they’re trying to convey.

The blood hunter throws his arm over Yasha’s shoulders in an act of familiarity, and while everyone else tenses, Yasha leans into him, humming in a pleased way. Beau smiles at them.

They’ll be fine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fun times inn the inn. caleb and beau have a chat.

“Uh, Beau, a word, please?” 

The monk looks up at Caleb from her mug of ale, fresh and clean – well, as clean as the wizard can be – from the spa house.

They’ve bought a couple rooms in a nearby inn for the time being. It’s a small building nestled in the crook of the town, surrounded mostly by small cottages and mills. And, for once, Beau appreciates the lackluster way of small towns, since no one cares enough to ask questions.

Like why the biggest member of their party had growled at the innkeeper.

In Yasha’s defense, the halfing man had made a snide remark about Molly’s pierced horns and flamboyant style, crudely adding how it ‘suited a devilish creature like him’. Acting on how the others reacted – Jester insulted him back, Nott hissed, Fjord glared and Beau flipped him off – Yasha had placed herself in front of the tiefling protectively and growled in warning, teeth bared and nostrils flared.

They hadn’t been bothered after that.

Beau shakes her head, refocusing on Caleb’s quiet inquiry.

“Um,” she quirks a brow, “ass.”

Caleb coughs. “Pardon?”

“You asked for a word, right? Well there ya go.” She smirks proudly.

“You know what I meant, Beauregard.” The wizard replies, unamused.

“Yeah, yeah,” Beau concedes, “What’s up?”

“It’s just-“ He spots himself, eyes glaring into the floor as he searches for the right words. “Do you think it is wise for us to stay here? I mean, that woman is still running amuck, and Yasha is… well, you know.”

Beau considers his question carefully for a moment before answering. “I mean, where else would we go? We still don’t know who, or what, the hell that woman is, or how to fix Yasha. We’re kinda tied down at the moment.”

Caleb nods quietly.

“…There is a way to help Yasha, right?”

“ _Ja_ , of course,” he replies quickly. “Someone needs to cast Greater Restoration on her and the fog will dissipate.”

“Great!” Beau perks up, rising up from her relaxed position. “We just need somebody to do it and bam! Problem solved.”

Caleb remains eerily quiet.

Beau’s smile falls from her face as she eyes the wizard squirming in his seat.

“Do – you do know how to cast it, yeah?”

“Well, um,” he stutters, looking anywhere but the monk, “I can’t.”

“What.”

He’s quick to try and pacify her. “Perhaps Jester might be able to, but I am not entirely certain. Based on from what I know, some clerics can cast it and cure Feeblemind, but I do not know if Jester falls into that category.”

Beau tenses slightly at that, and the heavy weight of worry that’s settled on her chest remains lodged there, the intense pressure forcing every breath out in a wheeze. Caleb seems to notice it, and a moment later, a familiar orange cat is wedging his way into Beau’s lap, purring loudly.

“It will be alright, Beauregard.”

Beau snorts dryly. “Weren’t you just saying we can’t fix her?”

“Maybe so.” There’s a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

“Well,” Beau stands to her feet, stretching her arms out above her. She gently hands Frumpkin back to the wizard. “This has been a fun talk ‘n all, but I promised to meet up with Jester in our room, and I don’t want her gettin’ upset cause I was late.”

Caleb smiles as Frumpkin rubs against his hand. “I would not keep that one waiting.”

“I know, I know.” The monk throws back the rest of her ale in one long gulp before slamming it back onto the counter, earning a withering glance from the barkeep. “Try not to get too dirty, alright?”

He doesn’t respond, but Beau’s used to that, so she carries on and heads upstairs to their room. Her, Jester, Nott and Yasha are sharing it, though Nott promises to sleep in Caleb’s room overnight. It’s small, but it’s enough for them to all fit somewhat comfortably. 

Knocking twice on the old wooden door, Beau pushes through, calling out before she even looks up.

“Yo, Jes! You still here?”

“Yep! We’re in the bedroom!” Jester’s cheery voice rings out, echoing down the hallway to Beau’s right. 

Beau makes her way to the bedroom and brushes by the already opened door before stopping in her tracks.

“Oh.”

Jester’s sitting on the bed, humming softly as her eyes and hands remain focused on their task. Next to her is Nott, fingers weaving through tiny white flowers she picked earlier. Sitting in front of the bed is Yasha, head tilted back and eyes closed as the blue tiefling carefully makes braids from her long locks of hair. The barbarian is completely at ease, face peaceful and breathing slow as she leans into Jester’s touch.

Nott looks up at her approach and smiles brightly, waving her over sporadically. Beau, completely flabbergasted at how calm Yasha looks, simply walks over, careful to keep her steps soundless.

The goblin pats a seat next to her and Beau sits down wordlessly, eyes still fixed on the still form of Yasha. Without any prompting, Nott places a flower crown on top of Beau’s head, tongue peeking out past her lips as she tries to nudge it in the best place. Nodding to herself proudly, she sits back down, focusing on her newest creation.

“Hey, Beau,” Jester whispers, leaning back to look at the monk, “can you give me a hand? Yasha has a lot of hair and I don’t have a lot of hands.”

“Um” Beau coughs, startled by the sound of her own voice, “yeah, sure.”

She scoots forward until she’s pressed up next to the tiefling, whose hands are buried in thick locks of hair. Jester wiggles her fingers silently, and Beau nods, moving her own hands forward and sinking them into Yasha’s mane of hair. Beau’s pleasantly surprised to find that Yasha’s hair is really soft; like, softer than the pillows in the inn, soft. She slowly begins making a braid of her own, fingers weaving delicately through the locks of hair.

Yasha stirs, unconsciously sensing another pair of hands in her hair as she tilts further back. Her violet eye cracks open as she lazily scans the newest occupant. A small smile graces her lips as she rumbles quietly, leaning further into the touch. Her eye drops closed as she relaxes into the feeling.

Beau’s damn near _melting_.

Never has she seen the barbarian so at ease in the presence of others, nor willingly let herself be touched without prompting. The image of Frumpkin flits through her mind, and Beau fights down the snort that rises in her throat. She can picture easily picture Yasha as a cat; shy and defensive at first, but with time, becoming comfortable and loving in her own quiet way.

“Beau?”

“Hmm?”

“You can let go of her hair now.”

Beau starts, realizing that both her and Jester have completed their braids, and that her hands still remain hidden beneath Yasha’s hair. Reluctantly, she pulls them free, already missing the soft feeling. Beneath them, Yasha reaches up and delicately feels around the braids, fingers gently tracing the intricate weaving. As she reaches the top of her head, Nott quickly drops a flower crown on top of her as well, fixing it into place meticulously.

Yasha turns to them and smiles, and Beau can feel a stupid, goofy grin pull at her lips in return. Yasha looks amazing and she looks happy and the monk is pretty sure she’s going to burst.

“Yasha, you look so pretty!” Jester crows, clapping her hands together.

The barbarian just smiles wider as Jester’s infectious giddiness takes hold. The blue tiefling cups Yasha’s cheeks and boops her nose, still cooing.

“You know she can’t understand you, right?” Nott pipes up from behind them, and Beau fights a flinch.

“Well, _I_ can tell she understands what I mean. I just have to say something super happy or super sad to let her know.” The tiefling responds, still squishing Yasha’s cheeks.

“She’s like a puppy!” Jester adds, releasing Yasha, but only after patting her head, heedful of the braids and flowers.

Nott tilts her head. “So, you could say anything to her all happy and stuff, and she’ll be fine?”

Jester shrugs. “Probably.” She turns to Yasha.

“Hey, Yasha!” She says, amping up the cheer in her tone. “Can I draw a dick on your face?”

Beau chokes.

Yasha, however, smiles.

The monk reels, turning to face the tiefling who is giggling uncontrollably.

“You are so fucking lucky she can’t understand you.”

Jester pointedly ignores her and scoots forward, one of her paints brandished in one hand as she pats the empty spot next to her with the other. Yasha rises to sit on the bed and the mattress creaks under her, groaning at the sudden increase of weight.

The tiefling sticks her tongue out as she concentrates on her drawing, which rests smack dab in the middle of Yasha’s cheek. Nott snorts a quick laugh as Jester reveals her finished product – a very detailed and realistic dick.

Beau struggles to contain her own laugh as Jester pats Yasha’s head again, the barbarian blissfully unaware of what mars her usually perfect complexion. When she turns to Beau and smiles however, the monk all but loses it, doubling over with chuckles. Finally, she takes a deep breath and looks back at Yasha, flashing her a thumbs up.

Jester gently tugs Yasha to her feet, slowly so she can retract if she’s uncomfortable. The barbarian merely tightens her hold, rumbling softly at the tiefling. Jester smiles brightly.

“C’mon, Yasha! Let’s go show the others your new super awesome tattoo!”

She leads Yasha out of the room, leaving just Beau and Nott behind. Sensing the sudden restlessness of her companion, Beau slouches back, turning to her with a grin.

“You can go now. I know you wanna go back to Caleb.” She says, and Nott’s eyes brighten.

“Oh, thanks, Beau.” She jumps off the bed but hesitates in the doorway. “Are – are you sure? I don’t want to leave you alone…”

“Me? Nah,” she snorts, crossing her arms behind her head and collapsing backwards onto the pillows behind her, “I could use a nap, anyway.”

“Okay.” Nott says before scuttling off in search of the wizard.

Beau settles down, closing her eyes as she begins to doze peacefully. A few minutes pass by, as she begins to slide into unconsciousness. She’s just slipping into the twilight zone between awake and not when the door suddenly slams open. The monk starts with a snort and sits up, hands already grappling for her staff.

It’s a false alarm however, as Molly strides through the door, comfortable but confused. He chuckles as he takes in Beau in all her half-asleep glory.

“Sorry to bother you during your beauty rest,” he brushes off her middle finger easily, “but I have a question.”

“Uh, yeah, shoot.” Beau drowsily sinks back down into the bed, closing her eyes.

“Why is my best friend walking around with a dick on her face?”

Beau promptly rolls off the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the m9 _finally_ start to come up with a plan.
> 
> ish.

When Beau wakes up again, she realizes two things.

One, she’s cold.

That isn’t a rarity in of itself, since the monk has always had trouble battling the elements, but she usually shares a bed with Jester or Yasha, and since they both run hot, she’s never been too chilled.

Which brings her to her second discovery; she’s alone.

That gets Beau to pull herself from the last dregs of sleep, sitting up in the bed with a mighty yawn. Glancing around blearily, Beau realizes she isn’t entirely alone.

Next to the bed, curled up on the floor is Yasha, arms secured around something as she sleeps soundlessly. A smile curls her lips as she spots the flower crown and braids still resting on her head. She also notes that Jester’s ‘art’ has been wiped away, probably by Molly.

Beau’s brow furrows as she considers where Jester might be. Slowly standing from the bed, Beau silently steps out of the room to look around for her friend. As she passes, she notices what’s clutched in Yasha’s arms.

Familiar fey blue eyes peek up at her lazily as Frumpkin purrs from his spot, nestled against Yasha’s chest. Beau smiles at him.

“Keep an eye on her for a minute, yeah?”

He blinks slowly, and Beau thinks for a moment that he might understand her – he _is_ a fey after all – but she shakes her head silently, musing at her odd train of thought. She heads off into the main room and immediately gets a bad feeling.

Papers are strewn about the room, and most of them are streaked with red paint. Stepping closer, Beau picks up a sheet of paper and immediately blanches. 

On the paper is the drawn face of a woman who resembles the creepy lady who kidnapped her and Yasha, and in red text below is scribbled, ’Have you seen this weirdo?’. Beau crumbles the paper in her suddenly clenched fist.

“Goddammit, Jester.” She curses, searching for any other clue.

Placed neatly on the table with an oil lantern is a folded note. Eyeing the deceivingly dainty paper dubiously, Beau plucks it from the desk and opens it slowly. She knows better than to open a note from Jester quickly. The last time she opened one hastily she’d ended up with glitter and shreds of colored paper in her eyes. Luckily, this note’s not booby-trapped, so Beau reads it carefully.

In Jester’s recognizable fancy font the note reads, ‘Sorry to leave you behind Beau, but Nott and I are going to search for the creepy lady who mind-fucked Yasha. Be back soon!’. And next to the short briefing are multiple hearts and smiling faces.

Beau smacks her forehead tiredly.

“Fuck me.”

A shuffling noise briefly emits from the bedroom, and after a moment, Yasha pads into the room, still holding onto Frumpkin like a child would a toy. She looks at the papers oddly before looking at Beau, who offers a very helpful shrug. Yasha comes closer and hums softly, gently dropping her forehead onto Beau’s. Frumpkin chirps.

Beau closes her eyes and nudges closer. “Hey.”

They stand for a minute in comfortable silence, simply basking in each other’s company, when Yasha’s stomach suddenly growls angrily. The barbarian jerks back in surprise as Beau chuckles, patting her shoulder amicably. 

“C’mon, let’s go get somethin’ to eat.” She slowly takes Yasha’s hand and leads her out of the room and down into the tavern of the inn. Frumpkin wriggles out of Yasha’s hands and onto her shoulders as they make they way to an open table.

After they sit, Beau waves over the half-elven woman working the bar. She flashes the monk a flirtatious grin as she takes out a small notepad and scratch.

“Just two plates of whatever meat you got here.” She says, and the half-elf nods, scribbling it down before turning around, heading off to what Beau guesses is the kitchen.

As Beau idly watches her go, the chair next to her is pulled out and someone drops into it. Looking back towards him, Beau nods a greeting as Fjord pulls his chair closer. The half-orc is still half-asleep, eyes clouded with morning drowsiness.

“Mornin’.” He grunts, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The half-elf returns, handing both Beau and Yasha a cup of something warm and steaming. Noticing the newcomer, she saunters up to Fjord and asks him for an order. 

As he does, Beau picks up the mug, smelling the contents curiously. The overwhelming scent of chocolate momentarily knocks her into a stupor as it invades her senses. Shaking off the initial shock, she carefully takes a small sip of the drink. It’s not exactly hot chocolate, since Beau can taste a remnant of coffee lurking in it, but it is sweet and warm, so Beau eagerly takes another sip. She looks up, only to notice Yasha looking at the drink, head tilted in confusion.

Beau nudges the cup closer to the barbarian, motioning to her own cup as she goes. Yasha hesitantly grabs and lifts the cup, holding it out in front of her awkwardly. Beau smiles and nods, taking another drink. Yasha watches her curiously, but doesn’t move the mug in her grasp. Beau notices and frowns slightly, confusion flitting across her features before something dawns on her.

Slowly, Beau takes another long drink, greatly exaggerating her actions, before setting it back down. After, Beau grins reassuringly at Yasha, who considers the warm drink. Then, after a short pause, she follows Beau’s example, taking a long drink.

The monk gapes as Yasha pulls back, eyes aglow. How she had managed to take such a large drink without burning her tongue, Beau will never know. Shaking it off, she chuckles, obviously amused.

“Good?” she asks as Yasha quickly drains it in two more drinks. She licks her lips before smiling widely at the monk, who promptly chokes on her own tongue.

“Smooth.” Fjord whispers to her, suddenly very close. Beau shoves him away angrily.

He chuckles heartily as Beau grumbles into her mug. The half-elf returns, balancing three plates on her arms. With a practiced ease, she slides them across the table to the appropriate person; Beau and Yasha with their plates piled high with assorted meats and Fjord with a much more respectable meal of two eggs, a small loaf of bread, and some meat.

Beau and Yasha eagerly tear into their meals as Fjord politely begins cutting his eggs. The chairs next to him squeal against the ground as both Molly and Caleb settle themselves at the table. Caleb looks asleep on his feet while Molly looks refreshed and lively.

“Ah, good morning.” The wizard mutters, rubbing at his eyes.

“Mornin’ Caleb.” Fjord replies, “Have a good night’s sleep?”

Caleb nods. “ _Ja_ , I suppose.”

An arm snakes behind his shoulders as Molly drapes himself across the man. “It would have been much better if you’d gone to bed when I told you to.”

Caleb looks at him from the corner of his eye. “Well, you ended up dragging me to the bed with you, so I see no difference.” 

“I was lonely.” Molly says, shrugging casually. Caleb’s cheeks darken ever so slightly.

Fjord smiled. “Well, I’m glad you slept, at the very least.”

“Yeah,” Beau says around a mouthful of food, “we need your brains and shit to help us out.”

“How kind.” Molly remarks sardonically. The tiefling relinquishes his hold on Caleb to lean forward, placing his crossed arms on the table.

“So,” He begins, snatching a silver of meat off of Yasha’s plate. She rumbles sourly at him. “Where are the other two hiding?”

Fjord hums thoughtfully as Caleb’s eyes flit about the room, searching for any flashes of blue or green. Beau pauses, swallowing her bite slowly.

“Um,” her fingers card through her hair, “they kinda, uh, went off to find the blood lady…?” Her sentence curves into a question and she winces blatantly.

There’s a moment of silence and tension so thick Beau could practically taste it. Then-

“ _They what_?!”

Beau flinches back from Fjord’s outraged cry, eyes narrowing defensively as he turns on her.

“Why didn’t you stop them?” he demands, hands clenched in front of him.

“Hey man, they’d already left by the time I woke up.” She snarls back. Beside her, Yasha tenses, eyes focused intently on the two.

“Guys, c’mon,” Molly interjects, holding their shoulders placatingly. “It’s not that big of a deal. They’ll wander back eventually-“

“Not a big deal?” Fjord hisses, but remains seated. “You think this is ‘not a big deal’? What if that fucking witch got her hands on them? Just look at what she did to Yasha!” he sweeps a hand vaguely in her direction and she flinches back. “Imagine what she’d do to them if she finds them!”

Caleb’s brows furrow as he mutters under his breath, no doubt deeply worried about Nott. Molly frowns at Fjord’s unusually abrasive tone.

“Look, I know you’re worried, hell, we all are, but you should have faith in them. They can take care of themselves. You of all people should know that.” The tiefling murmurs.

Fjord sighs, running a hand down his face tiredly. “I know, I – I just; I’m worried.”

Molly offers a sympathetic smile. “And you have every right to be, but just give them a chance.”

The half-orc reluctantly nods, taking a rather long drink from his mug.

“How about this; if they don’t show up in the next ten minutes, we go and search for them. Deal?” Molly adds.

Fjord responds with a strained albeit real smile. “Deal.”

A long, awkward silence ensues as everyone avoids eye contact from anyone. Caleb’s hands flutter and shake slightly as he dazedly flips through a random book, Beau glares into the bottom of her empty mug, Molly adjusts his coat repeatedly, Fjord takes a long dreg from his cup and Yasha curls in on herself quietly. After a while, Beau finally breaks the silence, coughing into her hand.

“Well, that was-“ she starts, but is cut off when someone suddenly slams into her, bowling her over and off of her chair. 

The others jump to their feet, hands twitching towards their weapons, but quickly stand down once they realize who it is straddling Beau.

“Oh, Beau, I’m sorry!” A familiar voice cries out, and the person’s half-elf form shifts into a blue tiefling.

“It’s… it’s cool.” Beau manages to wheeze out from where she is pinned under Jester.

From behind her, a tiny version of Fjord steps out, hands fiddling with something. Fjord jerks in surprise as Molly snorts a short chortle.

“Nott,” Fjord grounds out, brow twitching, “how many times do I got t’ tell ya not t’ be a little me?”

The tiny mirror image flinches back. “I’m sorry, but I panicked! It was the first thing I could think of.”

Jester extracts herself off of the monk, who sits up dazedly in response. The tiefling grabs her hand and yanks her upright, steadying her as she regains her footing. Nott drops her disguise and slips to Caleb’s side.

“You guys won’t believe what we found!” Jester crows, clapping her hands together as she practically vibrates with excitement.

“What I can’t believe is that you guys just wandered off on yer own without tellin’ anyone.” Fjord says crossly, abruptly deflating Jester.

She pouts and fiddles with her gloves. “I _did_ leave a note for Beau.”

The half-orc quirks a brow unamusedly.

“Okay, okay, okay,” She admits sheepishly, “so _maybe_ it was kinda risky, _but_ -“ she holds up a finger to Fjord’s mouth as he tries to interject, “look what we found!” With her free hand she digs around in her pocket and pulls out an opened envelope with a broken seal.

“You stole a letter?” Molly asks incredulously from over Fjord’s shoulder. Jester bobs her head up and down happily.

“And Nott found an amulet!” The goblin in question jerks at the mention of her name but holds up a golden chain necklace that bears one large ruby diligently.

“Why’d you steal those things? They seem pretty normal to me.” Beau asks, crossing her arms as Yasha peers over her shoulder at Jester.

“Well maybe to you they seem that way, but the letter has _lots_ of information and the amulet is magical. At least I think it is.” Jester responds swiftly.

Nott wordlessly hands the jewelry to Caleb as the blue tiefling delicately takes out the letter from within the envelope. The wizard begins meticulously inspecting the fine necklace as Beau reads the letter.

“Most of this stuff seems pretty _not_ suspicious to me.” The monk states, but her eyes narrow as she reads the bottom of the paper. “Except this. It’s signed by Lady Vahleria. No clue who the fuck she is.”

“Think she could be our blood-sucker?” Molly asks, taking the letter to read for himself.

Fjord rubs his jaw in thought. “Probably. The letter doesn’t look like it’s been sent. Was it in a box er somethin’ Jes’?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “It was sitting on a really fancy desk by itself.”

“Is this just an order for something?” The bloodhunter questions, holding the note out to Fjord. Scrawled neatly on the slightly yellowed slip of paper is what appears to be Vahleria asking for a shipment of basic things, such as dresses, jewelry, and cosmetic accessories.

The half-orc curiously scratches at the ink, making sure it’s not an illusion. He feels the words beneath his fingers and sighs, slightly disappointed in the note. “It’s just a delivery notice.”

Jester slumps at that, lip stuck out in a pout as she messes with the empty envelope. “Aw man, I thought that letter was going to be super lucky or something.”

Beau’s hand grasps her shoulder and squeezes comfortingly. “It’s not an entire bust. I mean, look,” she points at the signature, “we have an insignia and a name for the face now. That’s good for something, yeah?”

The tiefling hesitantly rises. “I guess so.”

Fjord turns to Caleb in the meantime. “So, what’s the news on the gem?”

“Oh, this is a very special amulet.” Caleb responds, handing the jewelry to the half-orc. “It’s an amulet of proof against detection and location. It conceals the wearer to many magical items and spells.”

Jester eyes it excitedly. “Does it turn you invisible?”

The wizard huffs a laugh. “Unfortunately, no.”

“So when you wear it, you can’t be detected?” Molly prods the amulet with two fingers, experimentally trying to activate it.

“Basically, _ja_.”

“That’s like, actually pretty cool.” Beau chimes in, eyes fixed on the shiny gem. Nott hums her agreement.

“So, what now?” Fjord directs his question towards the group. “Do we try an’ find ‘er or do we lay low ‘til we’re sure we can go?”

“She wasn’t there when we snuck in.” Nott pipes in factually after taking a small chug from her flask.

“Well, I think we should try and go find her,” Mollymauk says, “Maybe we can force her to undo what she did to Yasha.”

“But what if she’s too powerful for us to handle? What then?” Caleb replies evenly, tugging at his coat.

“Well, we should try and do _something_ at least.” Beau interjects, stepping back to Yasha.

“We could ask around to see who might know of her.” Jester adds, looking around with an exaggerated suspicious glower.

“And then shoot anyone who says they know!” Nott cries, whipping out her crossbow manically.

“How about no.” Fjord discreetly tries to push the bow back into hiding. “No shootin’ nobody until we know who’s dangerous and who’s not.”

“But looking around doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.” Molly taps his fingers against his chin thoughtfully.

Beau slams her fists together. “Yeah! We can give ‘em the ol’ shakedown ‘til they start talking!”

“Also no.”

“Party pooper.” Beau grumbles, leaning casually into Yasha.

“If we are to move forward with this plan, then perhaps we should split into small groups? To cover more ground and more people in less time.” Caleb suggests quietly.

“Not a bad idea, Caleb.” Fjord acknowledges. The wizard ducks his head bashfully at the praise.

Molly’s tail curls loosely around Caleb’s wrist as he leans into the half-orc. “I call dibs on these two lovely gentlemen.” He winks at both suggestively.

Jester in turn snags Beau, Nott, and Yasha’s arm in a defensive hug. “Yeah, well, I call these amazingly strong, beautiful, and sparkling ladies!”

“ _Sparkling_ -”

“Anyways,” Fjord coughs, avoiding the tattooed tiefling’s sultry gaze. “we should be headin’ out now, yeah?”

Jester eagerly bobs her head. “Yes! And since we’re so talented and amazing, we’re going to find the most clues first!” She slowly drags the others behind her out of the tavern, still teasing the men behind her.

“We’re going to beat you guys so bad!”

“Jester, we’re trying to-“

“Shh! Beau, don’t tell them that-“ Slowly, their voices wane and filter out among the crowd outside.

Molly offers a sly grin to the remaining members. “Shall we?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the girls begin their investigation! hopefully it doesn't go to shit

“Okay, where should we start first?”

Beau idly glances at the grinning tiefling from the corner of her eye as they meander through the small gathering of people arranged at the marketplace. It’s cramped but not suffocating, which the monk deeply appreciates. If it were a larger crowd, the chance of getting split up would be multiplied.

Casually, she crosses her arms behind her head as she strolls beside Jester. “Dunno. Any place look promising?”

Jester shrugs. “I mean, we’ve passed by a couple of vendors, but I don’t think they’d have the information we’re looking for.”

“Or maybe that’s just their way of flying under the radar.” Nott whispers warily, eyeing the people around them suspiciously.

Beau snorts and looks up at the goblin from her perch. After realizing that Nott could be easily lost in the crowd, Jester had tossed her onto Yasha’s shoulders, similar to how they had been when they’d hidden the sword from the Gentleman. The barbarian hadn’t shrugged her off, and Nott didn’t try to clamber down, so they had stayed that way for their journey thus far.

“Ooh, maybe.” Jester confides, huddling closer to Yasha. “They could be listening to our conversation right now.” She whisper-yells.

Nott’s hands clench slightly in Yasha’s hair. “What if they’re just luring us to our deaths?”

“Guys,” Beau cuts in, placing a hand on both Jester’s shoulder and Nott’s leg. “Can you chill out? They’re not watchin’ us.”

A small moment of comfortable silence settles as they continue to wade through the waves of people. Beau stifles a smirk as she continues.

“Probably, anyway.”

Jester whirls around to face the monk, cheeks puffed out in an angry pout as Nott shrieks, whipping out her crossbow and aiming it wildly at anything that moved. Beau doubles over with laughter as Yasha sways carefully to avoid dropping the maddened goblin.

“Listen up shitheads! If anyone of you fucks know a bitch named Vahleria, you better step up right now!” She demands, practically frothing at the mouth. The multitude of disgruntled and frightened people staring at them and backing away gets Beau to sober up from her laughter. As she rights herself, Jester smacks her on top of her head.

“Ow! The hell, Jester?”

“That’s what you get for scaring me.” She retorts, sticking out her tongue. Beau rolls her eyes.

Nott shrieks again. “I’m warning you! I’ll fire!”

“We should probably stop her.” Beau says, rubbing at the sore spot sourly.

“All yours, _best friend_.” Jester replies, smiling innocently.

Beau sighs but turns to the raving goblin. She’s practically driving Yasha with the way she’s wriggling. The monk steps up, hands raised passively as she places herself in front of the two. It’s easy enough, since the crowd has given them a wide berth.

“Alright, alright. Enough with the threats, Nott.” Beau orders, swatting at her leg.

“Not until-“

“No,” Beau grounds out, tilting her head subtly at the approaching guards. “We’re done here.”

Nott hesitates, mind whirring as she decides between fighting or leaving. Finally, she slumps into Yasha’s mane of hair, sliding her bow back in place.

“Fine, we can look somewhere else.” Nott agrees begrudgingly, letting Beau pull Yasha away from the sea of people. The guards shout at them, which spurs Beau on faster.

The monk swiftly pulls them to Jester, who’s found a hiding spot for the time being. She leads them through a series of alleyways to a small, closet-like room. After that, the tiefling first stuffs Yasha and Nott into the room, followed by Beau, then herself. After that, she slams the doors shut and holds her breath while the others shift and resettle themselves.

“Um, Jes,” Beau grumbles, ducking under Nott’s elbow, “I appreciate the safe space but why something so small?”

“Sorry, it was the first thing I found.” She replies, settling into the corner behind Beau.

Nott tumbles from Yasha’s shoulders to the floor, managing to catch herself on her feet. “Well, it could be worse.” She says, dusting off her hands.

“Yeah, we could be stuck in the shitter.” Jester says, and both Nott and Beau chuckle a little. Beau squirms and shifts until she’s pressed near Yasha. The barbarian seems rather frazzled in response to all of this. She has to hunch over to fit comfortably inside the small room, and Beau feels a pang of sympathy strike her chest.

“How you doing, Yash?” she asks softly.

Yasha grunts and shift again, looking at her surroundings with a slight scowl. She wriggles her arms as best as she can, then levels Beau with a look.

“I know, it’s cramped, but we’ll only be in here for a little, alright?” She slowly wounds her hand into Yasha’s, who accepts it. She grips back tightly as she sighs tiredly, shifting again.

Nott suddenly perks up. She presses one of her large ears against the door. Her eyes widen and she turns to them suddenly. “Guys, shut up! I can hear them coming this way!” She whispers hastily.

Jester slaps her hands over her mouth as Beau presses her ear against the wall as well. Even though she may not have Nott’s hearing ability, she can hear well enough to sense two, maybe three sets of footsteps, armor clanking with every footfall. She curses under her breath as Nott slips behind Jester’s legs. Eventually the guards come close enough so that they can hear their conversation. Beau motions at Yasha to stay still as the men speak.

“They came this way.” A deep, stern voice says.

“How do you know for sure?” A softer but still harsh tone asks.

“A woman managed to spot them sneaking in. They’re here.” The first voice replies.

“Stand at the ready, they could be anywhere, waiting to strike.” A third voice that’s gravelly and grouchy orders. Beau glares at Nott.

As the men draw closer, the group collectively holds their breath, not daring to move a muscle. Beau can actually smell the scent of alcohol and damp iron with how close they are. All four share eye contact as one guard breaks something wooden way too close for comfort. After what feels like an eternity waiting, the guards slowly drift away, muttering threats to the ‘four vile criminals’. A delicate pause settles then, as even the air itself seems to freeze with the growing tension. It’s like a tightly wound rope, slowly snapping thread by thread. Then, without warning, Jester bursts through the door, tumbling into daylight. Beau and Nott stare, slack-jawed and gobsmacked, while Yasha follows suite, pulling herself free from the room. A stunned silence ensues.

Nott screws her eyes shut. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

“Oh, you guys, they’re really gone!” Jester cries happily before Beau can respond.

One amber eye peels open. “Wait, really?”

Jester peeks her head back in cheerfully. “Yep! We fooled them so good!”

The goblin cackles as she pumps her arms in victory. “What fucking idiots!”

“I can’t fucking believe that worked.” Beau mutters, stumbling out of the closet with all the grace of a drunken sailor.

“You doubted my plan?” Jester asks with exaggerated sadness. The monk starts.

“Um, no, I – well, you hafta admit that, uh, that was kinda a last minute thing.” She crosses her arms across her chest as she leans against a brick wall behind her. “I never doubted _you_ , I just doubted _our_ luck.”

The mopey look on the tiefling’s face dissipates into her familiar cheeky grin. “The Traveler gives us _lots_ of luck.”

“Not lucky enough, I guess,” Nott grumbles dusting grime from her shoulders as she steps into Yasha’s shadow, “we might not have been followed if we had luck.”

“Well, technically _you_ started the whole shitfest, Nott.”

“I, for one, disagree.” The goblin shrugs off her look easily. “If Beau hadn’t scared me I might not have tried to defend myself.”

“Nott, no one was fighting you-“

“Anyway,” Beau’s rebuttal is cut short as the rogue continues her thought, “what now? We’ve already started a small manhunt and still haven’t found out anything about Vahleria.”

“Maybe split this group into smaller ones? Draw less attention to ourselves and you two,” Beau points at Jester and Nott, “could throw up your face change spell. It’d help us lay low.”

“Well, Nott and I can definitely do that,” Jester says, “but what about you and Yasha? You can’t disguise yourselves.”

Beau shrugs dismissively. “To them, I’m probably just another human.” The monk looks up at Yasha, who’s calmly watching them converse. “Yasha however might give us away. You can’t cast a disguise spell on her?”

The tiefling shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Maybe we can just make her a disguise?” Nott chimes in, looking around for anything that might be of use.

“Oooo, maybe.” Jester joins her, digging around in the scattered bins and chests lying around.

Beau looks around before casting the two a wide-eyed glance. “Maybe we shouldn’t steal from random people.”

“Look!” Jester crows, ignoring the monk’s comment. “How about this?”

Clutched in her grasp is a long, heavy black cloak, dirtied with age and use. It’s long enough that even as it hangs suspended from Jester’s grasp above her head, the end lays limply on the ground. Jester walks over to the barbarian and swings it over her form. Yasha doesn’t pull away, just observes with a curious look as the tiefling rights it across her broad shoulders and clasps it into place. The fabric just passes Yasha’s knees, but Beau gives it the okay.

“Aw, there’s no hood.” Jester pouts. “Now Yasha can’t look all cool and mysterious.”

“Guys, I’ve got it!” Nott pipes up, scuttling back over to them, something tanned held in her hands.

The goblin thrusts it into Beau’s hands, and the monk looks down to see an obnoxiously oversized straw hat resting in her grasp. She just manages to fight back a laugh as she sees Nott’s expectant look.

“This’ll work.” She says, and Nott takes it back excitedly.

She scrambles up Yasha and settles on her shoulders, dropping it atop her head. It rests for a moment before slumping forward, obscuring Yasha’s eyes. A small noise of confusion rumbles from her as she reaches up and pushes it back. As she does, Nott reaches behind her cloak and snatches something from it before connecting it to the top of the hat.

Now, a long, bright blue feather sticks out of the already eye-catching hat. She looks ridiculous, but Beau supposes it’ll work, since most might just assume she’s foreign or drunk. The monk turns to Jester.

“Alright, so where should we head to next? This place is kinda big.”

Jester hums thoughtfully. “Well, maybe we could start further from the inn and spread out from there? Maybe the guards won’t recognize us if we come from that way.”

“Maybe.” Beau taps her chin in thought. “Or we could start from the inn? We’d confuse ‘em if we came from the place they’d found us.”

“Ooh! That sounds super sneaky!” Jester claps her hands excitedly, turning to face Nott. “What do you think, fellow detective?”

She’s not there.

“Um, Nott?” Beau tries, looking around, but the goblin isn’t anywhere to be seen. Her eyes widen as something else dawns on her.

Yasha’s gone too.

“Oh _fuck_.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nott and yasha try and be discreet while searching for answers.
> 
> the key words is try.

“Alright, since they were taking so long, we should start here.” Nott says, mostly to herself. She knows Yasha won’t reply.

She’d taken it upon herself to split the group, since Beau and Jester were busy talking about the same concept with different words over and over again. The goblin was leading Yasha through the crowd, with one tiny hand fisted in the cloak Yasha wore.

Their disguises seem to be working like a charm. Nott’s miniature version of Fjord garners no suspicion, and everyone who seems wary of Yasha doesn’t approach, whether it be from indifference or from her looming size. Nott doesn’t care though; whatever gets them going is fine by her.

“We should try looking in the super seedy parts of town.” Nott declares, eyes shifting from person to person as she whispers to Yasha, who just watches her calmly. She tightens her grip on the black cloth slightly and tugs.

“C’mon, this way seems sketchy.” Yasha hums from behind her as Nott drags her down one beaten path, passing by people who don’t seem to be suspicious. It’s probably all a ruse.

Eventually, after around ten minutes of walking, the houses start to look more ragged and the people look more dangerous. No guards seem to be present in this area, which Nott questions when she sees a drunken brawl break out directly to their left. Despite the hostile atmosphere hanging in the air, a proud grin spreads across the goblin’s face. This is definitely where they need to be.

A rather haggard man stumbles past them, muttering something under his breath as he goes. He pauses momentarily to stare openly at the odd duo, and Nott gives him her best glare. He sneers at her and immediately earns a glower from Yasha. Nott relishes in the way he shrinks back, stunned by the sheer size and animosity of her companion. As he staggers away, tail between his legs, Nott laughs and flips him off when he turns to cast one last glance at them.

Yasha suddenly hoists Nott up by the scruff of her neck and deposits her onto one of her shoulders. As the goblin turns to squawk in surprise, she catches Yasha sending sharp looks at a group of drunks who had watched their encounter. Steadying herself, Nott gives Yasha a grateful pat on the cheek before urging her onward.

The barbarian strolls through the street with an indifferent scowl on her face, warding off any who might try and instigate something. Nott meanwhile keeps an eye out for the sign of Vahleria. It shouldn’t be too hard; her sign is a pair of green eyes and wings after all.

But evidently, it _is_ harder to find.

They traverse the small run-down part of the city for quite some time, and still see no sign of any suspicious people who might be related to Vahleria. Whenever they ask around, they are immediately ignored, left behind, or even attacked. As the eleventh guy spits a denial at them, Nott can feel her patience dwindling.

“Oh come on!” She cries, running her hands through her hair. “How can this be so hard? It’s just a stupid sign!”

Yasha doesn’t reply, instead, she merely gives the goblin a gentle pat on her leg, continuing to walk around the gravel roads. Nott slumps in her seat, sighing heavily. She drearily glances up, frowning at the clouds brewing overhead. A tired snarl pulls itself out of her throat; it would be really messed up if the Stormlord took Yasha away from them now while she was still mind-fucked.

A sharp sting of annoyance bites into Nott. She swallows a frustrated growl, instead settling for throwing a pebble she’d picked up to expel some of her irritation. It skips down the path and eventually comes to rest in the crook of a crack in the way. The release does cool her somewhat, so she chucks another. This time however, instead of the soft plink of stone against gravel, the impact sounds much more cushioned.

“Ow!”

In front of them, a gnome whirls around; confusion and annoyance coloring his features as one of his hands clutch the back of his head. His eyes rove down the street before finally stopping on Nott, who’s poised to throw another.

He stomps his way towards then, cloak billowing behind him from his quick steps. He stops directly in front of Yasha, stopping her so suddenly that she has to take a step back to not crush the gnome. It’s funny really; that someone that barely comes past Yasha’s knee could look down on her.

“Excuse me,” he starts, voice dripping with venom, “but was that you? The rock that just hit me; did you throw it?”

Nott glances around sheepishly before shrugging unconvincingly. “Um, pardon? What – what are you even talking about? Who would throw stones – I don’t know anyone who’d throw stupid stones.”

The gnome looks unamused.

Nott bites the inside of her cheek as she glances around for any sign of either Beau or Jester, who are much better at this thing than her. Neither of them are around, and Nott swears under her breath.

“Look, I’ll make one thing very clear for you, scum.” It’s only until now that Nott realizes, at some point, her disguise had worn off. “You’d best not pick a fight with me. It won’t end well for you or your friend. Understand?”

Nott nods wildly while Yasha simply scowls at him. The gnome’s eyes lock with hers, and he glares right back. Not deterred in the slightest, Yasha flashes her teeth in warning, and Nott can tell the gnome saw her sharper teeth by the way his gaze falters. The barbarian’s shoulders hunch up, making her look even larger than she is. The gnomish man takes a step back but continues his staring contest with Yasha.

“If I were you, I’d keep your beast under control.” He hissed, turning his piercing eyes to Nott, who shrinks into herself from the intensity.

A crooked and pleased smile pulls at the gnome’s lips as he relishes in making the goblin squirm. Yasha takes a step forward, silently daring the gnome to continue. The smile falls, replaced by a vexed frown. He harrumphs loudly before turning on his heel, storming away.

As he does, Nott notices something odd. The backside of his cape is solid black, except for four green marks. A devious grin reveals rows of sharp teeth as Nott recognizes it.

It’s the sigil of Vahleria.

Nott tugs on some of Yasha’s hair and points at the gnome, who turns into an alley. The rumble that escapes Yasha makes Nott almost lose her balance as the guttural noise makes the barbarian’s shoulders shake. She follows the gnome without hesitation; her long strides easily catching up with the gnome’s short ones.

As they round the corner, Nott sees the gnome tuck himself into a corner and pull out a copper wire, weaving it between his fingers. She scrambles down from Yasha’s shoulders and motions her to stay put. The goblin then carefully tiptoes closer, her crossbow at the ready as she creeps towards him. As she slinks into the shadows, she picks up on the last bits of his sentence.

“…found it. Should I act now or shall I wait for your men?”

He waits for a moment as whomever it is that he sent the message to responds before nodding curtly to himself. He tugs on the wire again. “Alright. I’m out.”

As he tucks the wire back into his chest pocket, Nott skitters closer, but in her haste, accidentally knocks over an empty bottle. The gnome whips his head around, eyes narrowed as he looks around suspiciously as his hands reach for the short sword at his side. Nott’s eyes widen as she remembers where she left Yasha, but as she looks back towards the entrance, she sees no sign of Yasha. Nott doesn’t know if she should be relieved or worried.

She looks back towards the gnome just in time to barely dodge an incoming swipe of his sword. The very edge of it just glances off her cheek, slicing a thin cut in her flesh as she scrambles back. She leaps to her feet just as the gnome points his sword at her neck.

“You!” He seethes, brows turned down into a furious scowl. “I should’ve known you would be snooping around in business that isn’t your own.”

Nott swallows loudly, try to back away from his sword, to no prevail. “Wow, what a coincidence! I didn’t even know you were-“

The gnome pushes the tips of his blade into the soft flesh of her neck, pressing hard enough to cause a bead of blood to form. “Move and I’ll end your pathetic existence here and now.”

She chuckles nervously as she shifts again, and the gnomish man sneers. “I feel as though that’d be a merciful thing for you; to put you down like the creature you are.”

Nott flinches away from both the sharp blade and the sharper words. Her eyes clench shut as her hands shake from where they’re locked on her crossbow, hanging uselessly at her side.

“Say goodbye, filth-“ His words cut off into a strangled cry as large hands close around his throat.

Yasha lifts him off his feet and lets him dangle in her grasp; his legs kicking futilely as he claws at her hands. Her face is twisted into a formidable snarl as she slowly forces her grip tighter and tighter. The gnome makes a horrible gurgling noise as his face starts to go blue. As much as she enjoys seeing him reduced to a choking mess, Nott knows they need him alive to interrogate him.

She tugs on Yasha’s pants to get her attention, which has a mixed result. Yasha’s glowing eyes lock onto her, but her grip doesn’t falter. In fact, she only clenches harder as her eyes zero in on the beads of blood rolling down her neck.

Nott wipes them away and uses her stern look – the one Beau fondly calls her “Nott mom face” – and points at the gnome as she makes a setting down motion. The barbarian falters, fingers loosening slightly as she makes a confused noise in the back of her throat. Nott nods and repeats the gesture, keeping eye contact with Yasha the entire time. Finally, the aasimar relents, dropping the gnome abruptly from her ironclad grip.

He lands on his back hard, wheezing and coughing to try and regain his breath. Yasha folds her arms over her chest crossly as she fixes him with a murderous glare. Nott crouches by his head, holding his short sword very close to his neck.

“Look, we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” she says, running her fingers over the blade idly, “but now’s your chance to make it up. Just tell us who Vahleria is and we’ll let you live.”

“Go. To. Hell.” The gnome wheezes, eyes flicking from Nott to Yasha. “I won’t. Tell you. Shit.”

“See, there’s our problem.” Nott frowns. “My friend over there _really_ wants to know, so if you don’t tell us, she might get, I don’t know, angry. Like, _very_ angry.”

The gnome’s eyes flash fearfully as he glances at Yasha’s imposing form. Nott’s eyes narrow. “You can avoid her by just telling us what we want to know.”

The gnome goes back to glaring and Nott sighs loudly. “Look, I don’t _want_ her to choke and kill you. Do you?”

He doesn’t answer, but his body stiffens anxiously. The goblin shrugs, the short sword bobbing with her movements.

“But, hey, not my call. This is all on you.” She turns her yellow eyes to him. “So what will it be?”

The gnome lays still, chest heaving with breaths as his eyes flit about, brow furrowed. Nott stays silent, simply observing him with keen eyes as he avoids looking at both her and Yasha. Finally, he closes his eyes, slowing his breath down as he lets his head fall back on the cobblestone.

Nott blinks owlishly as she leans over him. She jabs one finger into his forehead. “Hey, you didn’t die, did you?”

He doesn’t move. She leans closer to see if Yasha has crushed his windpipe when suddenly he lurches forward. He pushes Nott out of the way and scrambles to his feet. He ducks past the goblin’s hands and turns to sprint out of the alleyway.

Nott sits up and sighs drearily. She looks to Yasha, who hasn’t moved from her position near the wall. The goblin drags a hand down her face and groans.

“Yasha?” The barbarian’s head turns towards her, face schooled into a nonchalant expression. The goblin points at the retreating gnome.

“Fetch.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the gang finally gets together, discusses a plan, and tries not to get arrested

“How the _fuck_ did we lose them?”

 

Beau storms past random people as she tears through the town in search of her friends. Her elbows dig into them but she couldn’t care less at the moment. Yasha and Nott were gone without any trace. They could be lost or hurt or taken-

 

“Beau! Wait up!”

 

Beau stumbles over her own feet as she tries to slow down for her companion. She’d gotten so carried up in trying to find Yasha and Nott that she’d completely lost Jester in the crowd.

 

The monk skids to a stop and whirls around, eyes flitting from person to person as she tries to find her friend. A flash of blue catches her eye, so Beau charges back into the crowd, her lean body easily twisting around people.

 

As she ducks under a man’s arm, a hand snags her sleeve and tugs her out of the horde of people and onto the sidewalk, which is less cramped, Beau notes gratefully. She turns to see Jester, hand still gripped firmly in her shirt, and smiles.

 

“Thanks. Sorry ‘bout leaving you; I didn’t notice we got split up.” She says, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly.

 

Jester hums, continuing to drag her along the sidewalk. “You’re very welcome, Beau and I accept your apology. But we should probably stick together. It wouldn’t be easy to find Nott and Yasha if we have to find each other first.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Beau concedes, slouching her shoulders. “Where do you think they even went anyway?”

 

“I don’t know, but knowing Nott, she’s probably interrogating people.” The tiefling admits.

 

Beau sighs, rubbing her neck exasperatedly. “Awesome. So how do we know that they haven’t been arrested either, then?”

 

“Nott’s too quick to be caught.” Jester argues firmly with a nod of her head.

 

“True, true,” Beau amends, hands raised passively, “but what about Yash? She’s not the most fleet-footed of people, even when her brain’s not, you know, soup.”

 

The cleric’s brows burrow as she considers Beau’s statement. “Well, maybe – wait, no.” She cuts herself off, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

 

Beau gives Jester a nudge as she continues walking, at least wanting to try and look while the tiefling thinks. They continue traversing the streets as Jester lists the many places they might’ve wandered off to. Beau listens and nods every now and then as her eyes flit about their surroundings for any sign of green or grey. They walk for about two minutes around the streets, somewhat slowed by Jester asking every single person they pass if they had seen, as the tiefling put it, “a very small but very angry girl who’s definitely _not_ a goblin and a super scary and buff woman in dark clothes that doesn’t talk but has a heart of gold”.

 

They just turn a corner onto a rather sullen-looking road when Jester gasps loudly, blinding reaching for Beau and accidentally slapping her in the face as her other hand points at something wildly. Rubbing away the initial sting of the hit sourly, the monk grudgingly looks at what captured her companion’s attention. Across the way, a rather frazzled looking guard holds two people in one spot as he questions them. In front of him is one tiny girl in a cloak and a familiar hulking figure looming over her.

 

Without any prompting, Jester leads – drags, Beau would argue – to the group quickly. From her new point of view, Beau can clearly see the exasperation in the guard’s face. Also Yasha has an unconscious gnome flung over her shoulder, so there’s that too.

 

“Um, hi, hello,” Jester butts in, earning an irked glance from the man, “these are our friends and we were wondering what the matter was.”

 

The guard eyes them both suspiciously. “These folk are your friends?”

 

“Yes,” Beau answers, eyes narrowed angrily at the tone of the man, “is there a problem with that?”

 

“I’m not interested with who you associate with.” He fires back, but retreats a few steps back. “But these lot happen to be strolling about with an unconscious person with suspicious reasons.”

 

All of them turn to Nott, whose features twist into a nervous smile. “He’s a friend of ours too! He got, uh, a job promotion and went a little wild, if you know what I mean.” She motions drinking with one hand while making exaggerated gulping noises.

 

“Oh, yes!” Jester skips to Nott and Yasha and pats the unconscious gnome on the head. “I heard about Mister Ben Dover! He’s _soo_ good at his job as a professional donkey breeder!”

 

Beau turns away as she tries to stifle her chuckles. Nott however is unfazed and used to her friend’s unusual ideas. “Yes! He was promoted to the official area manager! Lucky guy, eh?” She gestures towards the guard, who hasn’t shown any change in his expression.

 

“Nice try,” He says, crossing his arms over his chest, “but I’m not stupid. Who are you really?”

 

“ _They_ are under official interrogation,” a new voice booms, “and therefore no longer your burden.” They all turn to see a rather imposing looking half-elf guard in impressive armor approach them, and the guard with them salutes clumsily, caught off guard by the man’s sudden appearance.

 

“S-Sir!” He squeaks, hands flitting nervously. “I thought you were sticking to your office for the day-“

 

“I was, but I changed my mind.” The head guard answers sternly. “Now I’m taking over. You can leave now.”

 

“But, captain, these people-“

 

“Enough!” The half-elf’s voice thunders across the street, sending some drunkards scurrying into their hiding places. “I am your commanding officer; you listen to me and you do _not_ give _me_ orders, understood?”

 

“Sir-“

 

“ _Understood?_ ”

 

The guard’s eyes flicker between the head guard and the four of them, but eventually, he straightens out, turning to salute the half-elf one final time.

 

“Understood, sir. My apologies.”

 

“Alright, off with you.” The half-elf gestures him away. “I’ll take care of these troublemakers.”

 

The guard gives one final nod before turning down the street. Beau slips a casual middle finger at his back. The head guard looks at the four of them with cool eyes.

 

“Alright, you four, with me.” He orders gruffly, turning to walk the opposite way. Jester, Beau and Nott all exchange glances before following him, Beau grabbing Yasha’s free hand along the way.

 

“Are we in real super duper deep shit?” Jester asks, walking to the guard’s side.

 

He grunts but gives no other answer, continuing to swiftly walk down the path. Nott nervously takes a swig from her flask.

 

They walk for another few minutes before the guard suddenly comes to a halt. His eyes scan the street carefully as the women wait awkwardly. Eventually, he suddenly ushers them into a nearby alleyway, hushing them as he went. Beau’s brows furrow as she regards the sudden change of attitude in the half-elf.

 

Finally, they make it to the very end of the alleyway, pinned in by the guard standing in the entrance. He rubs his face with a hand before holding them all with a tired gaze.

 

“Are you people nuts?” He asks in a very exasperated voice that definitely wasn’t his voice a minute ago.

 

His appearance shimmers suddenly, and the tall, broad-shouldered half-elf guard shifts into the almost as tall, but not as broad figure of Fjord. The half-orc’s usually calm features are pulled into a slight scowl. Jester gasps in surprise as Beau huffs a sigh of relief.

 

“Dude, I’ve literally never been so happy to see you.”

 

Fjord sighs, rubbing his temple exasperatedly. “Not helping.”

 

“Disguising as the guards!” Jester chirps, suddenly very close to Fjord. “That’s super smart! We should’ve done that, Beau!”

 

Beau grumbles as Nott crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s okay at best.” She sniffs.

 

“Hey, where are Caleb and Mollymauk?” The monk asks, directing her attention to Fjord.

 

He opens is mouth to reply but another voice cuts in quickly. “Over here, friends.”

 

Molly saunters up to the group as Caleb follows behind him, looking over a parchment in his hands. The tiefling fixes an errant strand of hair as he fixes Beau with a crooked smirk.

 

“What? Did you miss me?”

 

Beau growls, eyes narrowing. “In your dreams, asshole.”

 

Molly’s infuriating grin only grows, making Beau’s lip twitch upwards into a snarl. “Oh, so you think you’re in my dreams now?”

 

Her fist moves of its own accord when it slams into Molly’s shoulders, earning only an entertained chuckle that irks the monk further. Before she can follow up with any more damage, Caleb speaks.

 

“So, um, what is with the gnome fellow?”

 

The gnome is still slung over Yasha’s shoulder, _definitely_ unconscious. Molly pokes his boot and gets no response. Jester takes him from Yasha and sets him on top of a nearby crate. Almost immediately he slumps over.

 

“You kidnapped somebody?” Fjord grounds out, hand over his eyes as Jester tries to set him up properly.

 

“Well, he did threaten us.” Nott says, fiddling with her crossbow. At the sudden attention, she elaborates. “He works with Vahleria, so I thought we could glean information from him. I had Yasha get him.”

 

At that particular piece of information, the group shifts their focus to the gnome. As Jester pushes him upright, they all see the intense bruising of his face and the blood dripping from his nose. He’s also missing a tooth.

 

“You set Yasha on someone? That’s fucking awesome.” Beau comments flippantly.

 

“This cannot be happenin'.” Fjord mutters, returning his face to his hands.

 

“Don’t worry,” Nott appeals, “I made sure he isn’t dead. He’s just severely maimed.”

 

“Not. Helping.” Fjord grunts past his fingers as Molly observes the gnome’s features closely. The tiefling whistles his appreciation loudly before backing away and returning to Yasha’s side. He elbows her side fondly while complimenting her handiwork. She merely grunts and grabs the back of his head and pulls him into a friendly head butt. Molly grins happily and soaks in the contact, shooting Beau a cocky grin he knows will grate her nerves.

 

She crosses her arms and huffs loudly. “Fuck you, you cuddly bastard.”

 

“Admit it,” He says, turning to face her when Yasha releases him, “you’re just jealous because I’m her favorite.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Are too.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Are too.”

 

“Am-“

 

“Beau! Molly!”

 

The squabbling duo both turn to face the incredibly tired half-orc at his sharp reprimand. Beau’s glare softens slightly at his tone, but Molly merely shrugs, fangs flashing in a cheeky smile.

 

“Look, I know this situation is kinda stressful fer all of us, but it would be ideal if we didn’t argue amongst ourselves.” Fjord says, expression serious.

 

“But Molly-“

 

“I don’t want t’ hear it.” Fjord cuts off Beau’s retort, earning a frustrated sigh. “I don’t care who started it; I’m finishin’ it.”

 

Beau pouts and sulks away, tucking herself into Yasha’s side as Molly sits next to Jester, who’s in the process of drawing a mustache on the gnome’s face. Caleb’s eyes flicker up and survey the group for a moment before returning to the paper in his hands. Nott pats Fjord’s leg.

 

“I see you’ve been working on the parental voice. I’m proud.” She praises, nodding reassuringly. Fjord coughs awkwardly and scratches at his chin as color tinges his cheeks.

 

“Well, when you use it it seems to work wonders. I figured I might as well learn a thing er two.”

 

“So, not to interrupt your buddy fest,” Beau grumbles, voice muffled from where she’s buried her face in Yasha’s shawl, “but what are we gonna do about pulp face over there?” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder towards the general vicinity of the gnome.

 

Jester’s drawn both an extravagant mustache and goatee on the gnome’s face. Molly has merely scribbled something in Infernal across his forehead that has them both in fits of giggles.

 

“We could just, I don’t know, leave ‘im here and move along before we get into anymore trouble.” Fjord says, trying to subtly urge to the group to leave.

 

“Psh, where’s the fun in that?”

 

The half-orc shoots Molly an exasperated glare as Jester makes her finishing touches to her art. She caps and puts away her paints as she speaks up. “Well, I can cast Zone of Truth when he wakes up so that he tells us what he knows.”

 

“That’s… better, I s’pose.” Fjord says as he considers the option.

 

“A good suggestion, but he could just be dodgey with us and not answer at all.” Caleb mentions, folding the paper and stuffing it into one of his pockets.

 

Beau huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “We could just beat the shit outta him then cast it. That might get us an answer.”

 

“Or brain trauma.” Molly replies. “If his head is mush what good would he be to us?”

 

“Plus he is already very fucked up. I don’t think it is worth it to damage him further.” Caleb adds, earning a bitter grumble from the monk.

 

“Can’t you just heal him?” Beau asks Jester, who shrugs.

 

“I mean, I can,” she looks up as she answers, “but do we want him healed? I only have a few healing spells, and if I heal him I’ll have one less.”

 

Nott sits beside Jester quietly. “We could just kill him, you know.”

 

There’s a sudden burst of noise as Molly cackles loudly, doubling over with his laughter. Beau also dissolves into a fit of chuckles, having to lean against a wall in order to stay upright. Fjord desperately tries to rein them in, sputtering excuses uselessly as they fall on deaf ears. Silently, Caleb’s lips twitch into a ghost of a smile.

 

Jester, however, answers completely seriously. “We could. I mean, I do have Speak with the Dead, so if we did kill him we could get five real answers.”

 

“No, no, _no_ ,” Fjord says, “we are not killing-“

 

“It would cut off one more loose end.” Molly interrupts, blissfully ignoring Fjord’s sharp look with an even sharper grin.

 

“And to be fair,” Beau chimes in, “the guy’s probably an asshole if he’s working with Vahleria.”

 

“Did you two not just hear what I-”

 

“If we let him go, what if he just goes back to Vahleria and tells her we’re on her trail? She could very well just disappear and we would be left with no solutions.” Caleb comments as he snaps Frumpkin to him. With a silent command, the wizard sends his cat to the entrance of the aley to keep an eye out for any lurkers.

 

Fjord buries his face in his hands, stifling a groan poorly. “ _Or_. We could just leave ‘im, tied up n’ all, n’ go on our merry way n’ never speak of this again.”

 

Jester taps her finger against her cheek. “Won’t someone be worried? Or at least come and try to find him?”

 

“Maybe, but at this point, I just don’t want t’ kill ‘im.” Fjord shrugs

 

“Why shouldn’t you? He attacked me!” Nott cries indignantly.

 

“Have you considered,” Fjord says slowly, carefully, as not to incite Nott, “that if we do off ‘im, and we’re asked why we did it, and you say he attacked you, that the guards’ll believe you? And just let you go free?”

 

Nott blinks once. Twice. 

 

“The guards don’t have to know.”

 

“ _No-_ ” 

 

But Nott’s already advancing on the gnome, and to Fjord’s utter horror, no one moves to stop her. The half-orc quickly speeds to cut her off, arms held out to stop her.

 

“Wait - Nott, just wait a sec,” the warlock tries, searching desperately for an excuse, “we don’t need t’ kill ‘i'm. We can, erm, we can just - stop fuckin’ wavin’ the sword around! Uh, Caleb - Caleb has somethin’ fer us, isn’t that right?” 

 

Caleb starts at the sound of his name, caught off guard by the sudden direction of attention. “ _Was_? Oh, right, the map we found. I still have it.”

 

“D’ya mind lettin’ me have it fer a sec?” Fjord asks, still holding back Nott.

 

“Oh, _ja_ , here.” The wizard pulls back out the slip of paper he’d stuffed into his pocket and unfolds it and hands it over to Fjord. As soon as the paper brushes his fingers, Nott wrenches it from his grasp and scans it thoroughly.

 

“What is this?” Nott demands, shaking the paper at Fjord. “Why didn’t you say we had this earlier?”

 

Fjord shot her a deadpan look. “Well, I was a lil’ preoccupied tryin’ t’ keep ya from killin’ someone, so don’t be blamin’ me fer not showin’ it t’ ya.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait, what is it? Let me see, Nott!” Jester jumps in, eyes glowing in excited curiosity. The goblin obliges and hands it to the tiefling, and as she looks over it, Beau leans over her shoulder to see it as well. The yellowed paper is marked by refined inked designs that come together to create a well-made map of the small town. Some major buildings are labeled while others are just small blocks, but one large home in the southeast corner of the map has a red circle surrounding it instead. Beau furrows her brows and turns to the men.

 

“How did you get this?” She inquires, eyes flitting from Fjord, to Molly, and then to Caleb.

 

The wizard scratches his scruffy cheek as he answers. “Well, it was not too hard to find. They are sold at almost every shop around here. Rather cheaply too.”

 

“Not this part,” Beau grumbles then jabs a finger at the encircled building, “ _that_ part.”

 

Caleb blinks twice before glancing down at the inked spot. “Well, we walked to the place and asked around for its name, owner, and purpose-”

 

“Wait, hold up, you just walked in there?” Beau tosses a miffed glare over her shoulder at Fjord. “And you called _us_ crazy.”

 

“To be fair,” Molly chimes in suddenly, “I stayed behind while Fjord and Caleb disguised themselves. Plus, Caleb sent out Frumpkin to investigate just to be sure.”

 

“What did you find?” Jester asks, tail swishing excitedly. “Did you find her super secret lair?”

 

“More or less.” Caleb answers, taking the map back from Nott. “It is not like she is trying to hide her lair.”

 

Beau grunts flippantly. “So what? She’s just doin’ dark magic and shit and everyone here’s just cool with it?”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

The monk throws her hands up in frustration at Caleb’s cryptic answer as Fjord swiftly cuts in.

 

“No one here really knows that she’s bein’ all witchy ‘cause she has a front fer the manor. Some old guy who’s all nice an’ shit an’ buys stuff fer the people so that they leave ‘em alone.” He explains.

 

“So not only is she a witch,” Jester replies, “but she’s a _lying_ witch as well!”

 

Fjord shrugs hesitantly. “I mean, whatever floats yer boat.”

 

“Well, what now?” Beau questions. “Do we storm her fucking house or do we wait until whatever dark shit she did to Yash wears off?”

 

“That depends.” Caleb says. “Either we can look for a possible cure in Vahleria’s home, or we can bide our time and let Yasha wear off the spell in thirty days-”

 

“Thirty days?” Beau cries out acrimoniously.

 

Caleb blinks owlishly. “ _Ja_ , that is what I just said.”

 

The monk narrows her eyes. “Why didn’t you say somethin’ earlier?”

 

“Because, Beauregard, if I had told you earlier, you would have stormed the castle by now, and now that I have told you, you’re probably going to storm it anyways.” He responds.

 

“You motherfucker-”

 

“He’s got a point.” Fjord interrupts. “You do have a reckless streak in you.”

 

“Fuck you, no I don’t!”

 

Everyone casts Beau an unbelieving glance and the monk flusters. She turns on her heel and faces away from them, folding her arms over her chest as she huffs loudly, squaring her shoulders insolently.

 

“Fine, gang up on me, but I’m still gonna get somethin’ to help Yasha.” She grumbles.

 

Jester brushes up beside her. “Oh, Beau, we’re just messing with you. We’re still going to help.”

 

Beau tries to keep her ruffled stance strong, but it quickly crumbles under the weight of the tiefling’s pout. She relents, allowing herself to be pulled down into a bone-crushing hug. As Jester squeezes the breath out of her lungs, Molly speaks up.

 

“So, we’re all in agreement? Make a plan then take the castle?”

 

“I think so, _ja_.” Caleb replies, but looks around for other agreements.

 

“‘Course we will. We ain’t just gonna let ‘er go on by without fixin’ Yasha.” Fjord adds, patting Yasha’s shoulder.

 

“Good.” Beau nods curtly. “Now what about that tiny prick?”

 

They all glance at the still-unconscious, half-propped gnome resting haphazardly against the wall. Beau steps up to him and squats, peeringly suspiciously at his face as the others exchange uncertain glances. They still hadn’t thought of a proper solution for this predicament.

 

The gnome jerks awake.

 

Both the gnome and Beau let out similar startled cries of surprise as both reel back from the close proximity. The others behind her all gasp or shout in bewilderment. Reflexively, the monk’s arm flashes out and catches him directly on the bridge of his bent nose, snapping his head back by sheer force. Immediately, his eyes roll back and he slips back into unconsciousness, slumping into himself.

 

Beau stumbles back, shaking her hand as she watches the gnome with wide eyes.

 

“Motherfucker!” She hisses. “What the fuck?”

 

“Beau.” Fjord groans, rubbing his eyes.

 

She whips around to shoot him a defensive glare. “I didn’t do it on purpose! He scared the shit outta me!”

 

The half-orc mumbles something under his breath at Nott’s eyes gleam brightly. She looks up hopefully at Fjord with a wide, toothy smile.

 

“Does this mean we can kill him?”

 

“ _No_ ,” He responds immediately, “no, Nott, we ain’t killin’ ‘im. End a’ discussion.”

 

The goblin deflates. Molly interrupts.

 

“Then what should we do with him?” He says, arms crossed. “This conversation is getting rather repetitive.”

 

“Let’s just, I don’t know, leave him in a barrel or something.” Jester suggests, tail swishing by her feet. 

 

No one verbally responds, but no one denies her option either. So, Beau grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and holds him away from her, props open the lid of the crate he’d been set on, and dumps his unconscious form into it, promptly slamming the lid after him. Jester quickly layers boxes and sacks on top of the box in order to keep it closed.

 

“I-” Fjord blinks owlishly. “Well, okay then.”

 

“Let’s just leave before someone corners us here, ja?” Caleb says, turning and walking out of the alley without any responses from his friends.

 

The others make their way out as well, with Beau taking Yasha’s hand and leading her along. They slowly and carefully make their way across the small town back towards the inn they’d resided in the previous night. However, just as they round the corner just ahead of the inn, Fjord sighs and shoos the others back.

 

“What is it?” Jester murmurs. 

 

The half-orc curses under his breath softly. “It’s the guards. Guess they got a tad suspicious of our escapades.”

 

“They blockin’ the place in?” Beau asks, peeking around the corner to answer her own question.

 

“So what?” Nott pipes up. “Are we just going to camp out somewhere?”

 

“We’re gonna have to.” Molly replies.

 

“I am sure that the forest here can provide plenty of cover for us. We can just find a nice clearing nearby.” Caleb supplies, surveying their surroundings.

 

Fjord scratches his chin. “Not bad. We got it in us t’ hang in the woods fer a couple a’ days?”

 

“I mean,” Jester says, “we usually camp in the woods anyways.”

 

“I don’t really care. ‘Long as we can get Vahleria, I’m fine with whatever.” Beau comments.

 

Caleb nods. “Well then, it is settled.”

 

They all are led out of the town and into the forest by Fjord and Caleb, who are studying the nearby landscape in search of a well-hidden patch of land where they could set up a camp. After about five minutes of looking through the woods, Caleb spots an open clearing that is near a small stream, surrounded by tall grass and other vegetation. Everyone disperses as they each work on setting up the campsite. Caleb begins weaving a line around the circle as he prepares his alarm spell, Fjord starts up a small fire in the center, Jester begins laying out everyone’s bedrolls, Nott manages to shoot a couple of fish to use for a meal, Molly prepares a light stew for dinner, and Beau and Yasha gather firewood to keep the flames burning. As the food is handed out, the group goes about settling in for the night. It is decided that Nott and Caleb will take first watch, Beau and Yasha will take second, and Molly and Jester will take third.

 

After they’ve all eaten and cleaned up, they head to their personal bedrolls and start to get comfortable for the night. Beau shoves her mat next to Yasha’s, thumping down next to the barbarian with a huff before tucking herself into massive arms. Molly and Jester also push their rolls next to Yasha, but they stay on her other side and remain in their own beds. 

 

Beau nestles closer, seeking the heat Yasha radiates as a chilly breezes stirs through their camp. Her eyes are growing heavy, as the soothing warmth that encompases her and the soft whispers behind her lull her into a drowsy state. Yasha’s arms curls around her, and she’s pulled close enough to hear her long, deep breaths and heavy, booming heartbeat. Maybe it’s her imagination, but Beau feels like they’re rattling her to the bone, shaking through her like tiny earthquakes.

 

Beau smiles sleepily. It’s nice.

 

Her eyes slide closed.

 

…

 

She’s awoken rudely by a hand shaking her shoulder.

 

Grumpily, she slaps whoever's hand it is that roused her from her comfortable sleep. The hand retreats, and Beau sighs happily, tucking her face back into Yasha’s warmth. 

 

She’s shaken again.

 

With an aggravated groan, Beau props herself up on her elbows as she glowers at the man in front of her.

 

“ _What._ ”

 

Caleb averts his eyes awkwardly. “Ah, it is your turn for the watch, Beauregard.”

 

Beau blinks tiredly.

 

“Just get up already! I want to sleep!” Nott whisper-cries out from behind Caleb, voice tinged with both annoyance and weariness.

 

Beau drags a hand down her face and groans again. Grouchily, she rises to her feet and stretches, baring her teeth in a wide yawn. “Yeah, yeah, I’m up.”

 

She turns to the tired duo. “Go get some shut eye. I got it.”

 

They both shamble off to their shared bedroll, practically asleep on their feet. Beau shakes her head and smiles wryly. From beside her, Yasha sits up, rubbing at her eyes. Beau smiles softly at her before walking away and sitting upright against the thick tree closest to the fire. After a moment, Yasha joins her, dropping down next to her with a grunt. Beau pats her leg fondly before slipping on her goggles. Methodically, she scans their surroundings with a keen eye, but sees nothing other than vegetation and the odd bird. Satisfied, she slips off the goggles and lets them rest on her thigh.

 

A soft breeze rustles the trees above them, and the fire flickers slightly before returning to its strong blaze. Idly, Beau pokes at the flames with the tip of her staff, pushing around the chunks of burnt wood, which causes ashes to scatter in the air. Beau sighs and leans back against the tree, eyes focusing on the starry sky above but attention still focused on any noises. Other than the crackling fire, the night is blissfully still. Beside her, Yasha gently plucks small flowers from a nook in the tree and places the bunch in front of her in a small pile. A small, soft smile crawls across her face. Despite everything, Yasha is still Yasha.

 

A small, furry, and pleasantly warm creature worms between her and Yasha, and Beau glances down to meet gazes with the bright blue eyes of Frumpkin. She holds her hand out and the fey cat eagerly butts his head into her palm, purring happily.

 

“Hey buddy.” She cooes, scratching behind his ear softly.

 

Frumpkin _mrrps_ in response.

 

Beau lets her hand run the length of his back, which arches to give her access to the best places to scratch. He settles down and begins kneading her thigh as she curls his tail around her fingers. Frumpkin’s eyes are closed and he continues to purr softly.

 

“So,” she murmurs, “is that Caleb in there or are you just chillin’ out?”

 

Frumpkin just continues to purr. Beau idly glances at the sleeping party in front of her and sees that Caleb is asleep in his bedroll. The fey cat chirps again as Yasha’s large hand gently strokes down his back. Beau looks up and grins at the soft look adorning the barbarian’s face. Beau scratches Frumpkin’s fluffy cheek as she looks around the clearing, slowly losing herself in the motion. Eventually, their watch ticks to a close, and Beau picks up Frumpkin, gently deposits him on Caleb’s cot, then promptly turns and kicks Molly’s side.

 

A muffled hiss of Infernal slips from his mouth as he rolls over, away from Beau and further into his bedroll. One of Jester’s ears flick at the familiar language, but it’s not enough to completely rouse her. Beau rolls her eyes and digs the toe of her boot back into Molly’s ribs, earning another snarled curse.

 

“Oh, shut up, it’s your turn for watch. ‘M tired.”

 

Glowing red eyes blink open, standing out starkly against the darkness of the night. The purple tiefling shoves away her foot and rubs his side sourly, glaring up at equally irritated blue eyes.

 

Molly slowly rises to his feet, tail thrashing. “What a wonderful way to wake someone up.”

 

“Been practicin’.” Beau replies, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Really? You?” Molly’s eyes gleam. “Since when do _you_ need to practice working with _people_?”

 

Another stifled swear tumbles past the bloodhunter’s lips as Beau nails a punch directly into his liver. As he hobbles away clutching his side, Beau kneels down and gently shakes Jester awake. The total change of approach is enough to bring a wry grin to Beau’s face. She rocks on her heels as bright, albeit tired blue eyes blink open. Jester sits up and rubs at her eyes as her fangs flash in a wide yawn.

 

“Time for our watch?” She asks quietly.

 

Beau smiles softly. “Yeah. You good to go?”

 

“Mhm.” Jester replies sleepily, climbing to her feet alongside Beau. “Go sleep, Beau. We’ve got it from here.”

 

Beau nods and, after some hesitation, ruffles Jester’s hair playfully. As the cleric laughs and leans into the touch with a dip of her head, Beau smiles again. She pulls her hand back and gently pats Jester’s shoulder. The tiefling rests a hand on her’s and grins widely.

 

“Go cuddle Yasha already! You’re burning precious snuggle time!” She crows before skipping over to Molly, who’s settled by the fire.

 

A fierce blush burns Beau’s face as she blows a raspberry at the retreating cleric’s back. With a huff, she turns and tosses herself(only a little dramatically) onto her bedroll, scowling with no real malice. A moment passes before a heavy body drops down beside her, and Yasha curls around her with a pleased rumble. Beau begrudgingly succumbs to the barbarian’s comfy warmth and turns so that Yasha is no longer spooning her, instead merely curled around her. The barbarian has no qualms about the new position and merely hums before closing her eyes, breathing steadily as she fades into sleep.

 

Beau idly strokes Yasha’s cheek delicately with one hand as she lulls both of them into a sleepy, comfortable atmosphere. Eventually, Beau’s ministrations drags them both to sleep with smiles on their faces, tucked into each other’s warmth. Beau’s last conscious thought is that, despite lines of thick, hard muscle, Yasha’s arms make the best pillows.

 

The cold night fades away as she falls asleep in Yasha’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry it's been a while!! just had finals and was busy with other things, but here we are!! this story is almost wrapped up; i'd say about three or four more chapters left!! thanks for sticking around!!


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